ParlezVous Francais
by Qiuyue
Summary: Semi-song fic. Oliver becomes frustrated at Enrique's lack of attention. Wandering around the streets of Paris, he runs into a Russian, singing his most hated song. Yaoi. Tala/Oliver, Bryan/Enrique


**Hey guys!**

**Ok, I've had this idea in my head for awhile, because every person I hear singing this song sings the wrong lyrics, understandably because it actually sounds like its right. To my Australian readers, you might know the song. To everyone else, look it up. It's epic.**

**Gripe for the fic: There are two today. One being homophobia (I read something yesterday where one of the characters exclaimed "You think he might be **_**that **_**way?" and all of the other characters looked at him fearfully) and the other being the chronic misuse of the words 'wander' and 'wonder'. Two different words, two different meanings! That one little letter makes the word a thought or a movement... Don't confuse them!!!!**

**Edit: Ok, I started writing this last week, and had it almost done, and then was stupid enough to check my Uni email. Long story short, I bombed two subjects, and am kinda pissy, so if you have any criticism, keep it to yourself, at least for two weeks, then you can tell me how much I suck. Ok? Good! Because of this, a couple of characters have been changed from being stupid, to having an IQ smaller than their age, like me. Gosh.**

**Warnings: Enrique/Oliver, Tala/Oliver, Robert/Spencer, Miguel/Kai, Bryan/Enrique, one sided Enrique/Kai and Tyson/Kai**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except my awesome new corset and my precious iPod (*strokes iPod creepily*).**

* * *

"The Champs-Elysees is a piss ant street!"

Enrique screams the lyrics loudly with the rest of the crowd, ignorant to the green-haired Frenchman sitting next to him, scowling. The youth really had no etiquette, particularly in the eyes of Oliver, to whom it appeared the song was becoming more and more insulting to. Robert glanced between the two, trying to decipher why Oliver seemed so disturbed by Enrique's singing. Sure, it wasn't particularly decent, but Oliver had heard him sing before, and he had heard the song before, and hadn't been bothered by either. Robert narrowed his eyes. Could it be? Could Oliver, little sweet Oliver, be attracted to the Italian playboy? Mentally, he shook his head, whilst physically glancing at the minimal space between the two. Oliver hadn't done that. Enrique had sat next to him, not the other way around. Maybe, Robert thought, it's all coincidence. Oliver doesn't like the song or Enrique's singing, and the build up of both has gotten to him. He doubted that was the exact reason, but it was enough to get him to stop analysing the two. Maybe he could find that Russian blader. He was always guaranteed something intelligent to talk about with the blonde...

Oliver groaned. It couldn't get much worse. The song was insulting him, and Enrique didn't care. If anything, he was singing louder! The green-haired man had had enough. He waved over a waitress and handed her a wad of cash, effectively paying for the table and the drinks Enrique was bound to have. He didn't know why he was still with the Italian, other than he loved him. They had nothing in common except that they were rich and European! Oliver scowled as he left the small bar, Enrique hadn't even seen him leave, he was too busy singing that ridiculous song.

Oliver turned a corner and walked into a dim alleyway, still musing over his relationship. The music hit his ears before anything else, the loud echoes of '_oui_' reverberating through the alley. The lights of the small group approaching him lit up the small area, allowing him to see the red, blonde and blue hair of the five youths in front. He backed away, trying to subtly make his escape. The crash of the bins sounded out his error before the touch of the cans did. The group ahead of him looked up instantly.

"Oliver!" Tyson exclaimed, leaping over the spilt trash to help his friend up.

"_Bonjour _Tyson. I guess I should have been watching where I was going." Oliver glanced at the people accompanying Tyson, instantly picking out the red hair of the Russian team captain. The blue eyes of the youth met his own, making Oliver feel as though the icy gaze had pierced his soul. He shivered, making Tyson leap forward, and offer to accompany the Frenchman to his hotel. Oliver shook his head, simply wishing for some alone time, away from that damned song!

After many goodbyes, and tearful promises to catch up soon, Tyson and his companions, including the Russians, left, allowing Oliver to go back to mulling his relationship over. He couldn't understand how Enrique could be so insensitive. Why couldn't he be more like Tala?

Oliver stopped. He went back over his thoughts, confirming what he had feared. He had compared his lover to the heartless Russian. This was unthinkable. Tala was probably one of the most insensitive people he had met!

Oliver stopped again, thinking hard. He actually couldn't remember when Tala had been insensitive. Sure, the red-head was blunt, but never overly harsh. He racked his brain, trying to think why he had thought Tala was insensitive. He slumped into the gutter as his thoughts went wild, looking for just one moment when Tala had been insensitive.

Oliver groaned, he was going crazy, he knew it. He had searched his memory twice over and could still not remember why he had thought badly of Tala. If anything, the entire Russian team, Kai inclusive, seemed to attempt to not be overly cruel, with the exception of the first tournament, which Oliver knew Bryan and Kai regretted. Oliver straightened up. He could name dozens of times that Enrique had been thoughtless, if not hundreds. Tyson too, and Michael! He scowled, remembering Enrique singing that stupid song, as the words hit him again. Stupid memory, always bringing things up that I don't want, Oliver thought harshly, gripping his head and shaking it roughly. As the sound grew louder, Oliver realised that it wasn't a memory. Unlike Enrique, this voice had talent, a deep, rich baritone, singing clearly over the noise of the traffic. Oliver stood, watching for the singer.

He saw the tuft of red hair before he saw the face. He'd know that hairstyle anywhere, particularly after having run into the male just moments beforehand.

"_The Champs-Elysees is a busy street  
We getting down with everyone we meet.  
If you understand, then listen to me:  
Si'l vous plait ma Cherie allez tombez la chemise._"

Tala moved towards Oliver, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips. Oliver was dumbstruck. Tala was singing the same song he hated, but... It was sexy! Oliver blushed, attempting to force the colour from his cheeks before the stoic red-head noticed. A smooth chuckle from behind him ripped him from his embarrassment.

"You should blush more often, it's cute."

Oliver's eyes widened. Tala Valkov, fearsome leader of the Blitzkrieg Boys and all-around sex God thought he was cute. This just didn't happen. Not even on his good days! He blushed more, not even bothering to hide it this time. Tala smiled, no trace of a smirk in sight. Oliver had no idea that was even possible!

The red-head stepped closer, effectively stepping within Oliver's circle of personal space**1**, and tipped Oliver's head up to meet his own.

"You know, cute little French boys shouldn't wander the streets alone at night."

Oliver gaped up at Tala, still in shock over being called cute the first time. He shook his head, clearing it of the thoughts consuming him. It didn't matter how cute Tala thought he was, no-one like the Russian sex God would ever be attracted to a green-haired midget freak like him. Just because Tala thinks he's cute doesn't mean he's actually attracted to him! Tears gathered in Oliver's eyes, causing the boy to turn away, diverting his attention towards the gutter.

Tala frowned. This wasn't how Kai said it would happen. Even Miguel had commented on how Oliver seemed to be ignored by his boyfriend. The lovers had told Tala that if he complimented Oliver, that he'd open up, and that he might even leave the blonde idiot. But that wasn't how it was working currently. Instead, his compliments had made the young man cry, and he had no idea how to fix it. Tala stepped away. He had to think about this carefully. There must have been something he said or did to make the boy cry. He ran his comments over in his head, finding nothing that could be the cause of the tears. He growled. There had to be something, anything. He couldn't exactly stop tears when he didn't know what had caused them, now could he?

It hit him in an instant, almost knocking the red-head backwards. His singing had made Oliver happy once before, it could do it again, right? He hummed a few lines of the song, remembering the lyrics quickly. He couldn't afford to ruin this for Oliver.

"_Got people moving up and down like an elevator;  
I'm keeping it cool like a Kelvinator.  
Got binoculars for my sexy neighbours-  
They always in the yard doing cha cha cha_."

Oliver laughed, the tears still flowing from his eyes, but temporarily forgotten as Tala's voice echoed through the streets. Tala smiled down at the Frenchman, humming the chorus of the song. He should have thought of it sooner.

"You're ok, right?" Tala murmured into Oliver's ear, hoping for a positive response. He had no idea what he was going to do if Oliver said no, probably sit down and cry beside him.

Oliver smiled coquettishly, nodding his affirmation to the Russian. Tala smirked back at him, mischief dancing in his blue eyes.

"Good." And with that simple statement, in the same monotonous tone that Oliver had become accustomed to around the Russian team, Tala swept him up off the sidewalk, and into his arms, as he strode down the street in a seemingly random direction. Oliver squeaked, shocked at the movement. Tala laughed loudly.

"You know Oliver," he started, sounding almost serious "Some people think that you are too good for Enrique."

Oliver's eyes widened. That couldn't be true. Enrique was perfect. Everyone liked Enrique, but Oliver was a freak of nature! How many people had green hair naturally!

Tala smiled. "It's true, you know. Kai hates Enrique, thinks he's full of himself. Miguel agrees with Kai on anything. Tyson thinks your food goes to waste on someone like Enrique. Spencer thinks your artistic talents are underappreciated with Enrique."

Oliver considered his possibilities with the end of the sentence. He could go two ways. Defend Enrique or, what he really wanted to do, ask Tala what he thought. He weighed the results of the two ideas. The second had two possibilities, one positive and one negative, but the first only had negative opportunities. He decided to risk it and ask.

His voice surprised himself as he questioned Tala. "And you? What do you think about Enrique and myself?"

Tala smiled at the lust present in Oliver's voice. He knew that Oliver was going to ask that question but still didn't know how to answer. He set Oliver down in a park, still trying to think about the answer to Oliver's question.

"Well, I guess there are two answers. First, I don't think Enrique is smart enough to keep you entertained. He says and does things that are insulting, and is too stupid to even realise, or apologise." Tala frowned for a moment, thinking back to someone else he knows like that. His face lit up as he realised "I suppose he's like Tyson in that regard. He thinks what he is doing is good, but in reality, he's just an idiot."

Oliver laughed, mentally comparing the two. They were too alike, he supposed, the only difference being the cultural differences, and the fact that Enrique actually dated the person he chased, unlike Tyson, who was still in denial about Kai's relationship with Miguel.

"And what's the second?" he asked, surprising not only himself, but Tala too, who was still musing over the question.

"I suppose, it might be that I'm a little jealous of Enrique. As stupid as he may be, he still has someone beautiful and intelligent by his side."

Oliver gaped. It was one thing to be called cute, but it was a completely different thing for Tala to admit he was jealous of Enrique. It was unheard of! Girls were jealous of Oliver, for dating the Roman god, but no-one had ever been jealous of anyone Oliver dated.

Tala frowned at the expression on Oliver's face. Oliver was one of the most beautiful people he had ever met, and considering he lived with someone who looked like a porcelain doll, that was saying something.

Tala brushed his lips by Oliver's ear, hoping the Frenchman wouldn't yell. Subconsciously, Oliver leaned in, the tingle from Tala's lips warming his body immensely.

"Oliver, I think I love you."

Oliver's heart leapt into his mouth. Tala...Loved him? He looked into Tala's eyes, seeing only sincerity and fear reflected back at him. Tala was scared? What could he be afraid of? Oliver glanced around quickly, they were alone, so it couldn't have been that they would be overheard. He glanced back at Tala, who had stepped back. Suddenly it hit him like a sack of bricks. Tala was afraid of Oliver rejecting him. Oliver, who hadn't said anything in the several minutes since Tala's confession, stepped forward, closing the gap that Tala had created.

"That's good, because I think I love you too, and it would be most embarrassing for me to love you, and you to not love me back."

Oliver grabbed Tala, in a rare display of dominance, and kissed him, creating a chorus of wolf whistles from behind the new couple. As they separated, Tala turned, expecting to see his housemate and his boyfriend. What he saw shocked him. Not only were Kai and Miguel there, but the Bladebreakers, Blitzkrieg Boys, Johnny and Robert with them. Tyson's loud whoops were easily distinguishable from the polite clapping and wolf whistles from Tala and Oliver's team mates.

Oliver and Tala smiled at each other, before turning and walking towards their teams. "Now all we have to worry about is telling Enrique."

~~~On the other side of town~~~

A young blonde sat in a club, sandwiched between two busty women. Without warning, Delamare's song 'Imaginary things' started playing from his phone. With a deft hand, he flipped the cover open, reading the message quickly and silently. When he finished, he stood, and stalked out of the club.

As he got closer to the hotel that he, and the rest of the beybladers currently in France, were staying in, he began to calm himself. Maybe he wasn't the best person for Oliver. If Oliver had chosen to leave him, then there must have been a good reason, just like there must have been a good reason for Oliver to choose Tala.

Enrique smiled. Yes, he will be happy for the new couple. Maybe then they can go out as a group, and Enrique can get back some of his pride. He stepped into the elevator, mulling over who he should date next. The obvious choice was Kai. He was easily the most attractive professional blader. Maybe he and Kai could go out tomorrow night, get a few drinks. Enrique nodded, confident in his choice. He opened the hotel room door, knowing that, at the very least, Oliver and Tala would be in there. Seeing the two huddled together on the couch, Enrique smiled. It couldn't get better. Oliver was happy, Enrique would get one of the most beautiful people in the world as his boyfriend and lover, and everyone would congratulate him.

He sat next to the new couple, offering them his congratulations. Spanish murmurings behind him captured his attention. He turned, looking for the speaker. His eyes rested on the Spanish blader, Miguel, who was talking to a blue-haired individual. Enrique studied the two, and the body language that rests between them. The blunette was sitting in Miguel's lap, so Enrique decided that the two were obviously a couple. It was just a matter of figuring out who the blunette was. Enrique stood, searching for the only two blader's he knows with dark blue hair. He spotted Tyson sitting in a corner, talking to Max and Rei, and shooting glares over towards Miguel, but, try as he might, he could not find any trace of his love, Kai.

He wandered around the small room, checking in rooms for the Russian enigma, but still sees no trace of him. Mind made up, he walked towards Miguel, and his 'mystery' lover. He tapped the blunette on the shoulder, avoiding the gaze of his fellow blonde. Enrique stepped back when large, red eyes focus on his own blue ones. He smiled sadly, dismayed that even this love had been taken from him. He walked away, set on departing, when he is knocked into the door from behind. Large hands reach out to steady him, gripping his forearms gently, but with a strength unknown to Enrique. He looked up, into the dark eyes of another Russian.

Lavender hair drifted into the man's eyes, and, brushing it away, he mutters, his English heavily accented "You are ok, right?"

Enrique gulped, and nodded, gazing around the room, attempting to locate the one who knocked him. Tyson's sheepish gaze matches his own, and his face flushes in embarrassment.

Bryan growls, heading towards the blunette, intent on causing pain.

"It's surprising," Kai's voice speaks softly in Enrique's ear, startling him, but not enough to move. "I've never seen him that protective of anyone, except his brothers."

Enrique blushes, watching with Kai as Bryan throws Tyson out of the window, and into the hotel pool. Kai berates Bryan, laughing as he does so. Miguel turned to Enrique, smiling, and winks subtly. Enrique stood there, shocked at the apparent insinuations Kai and Miguel were making. Bryan turned back to him, checking that he was ok. Enrique nodded, not even listening to the conversation Bryan was attempting to initiate.

He turned suddenly and walked out of the door, heading towards the elevator. He needed to think this through. After all, Enrique only dated the best. The best looking, the best chef, the best- well, that one didn't need to be spoken about. She was the best at what she did, that's all that matters. But Bryan, although he was hot, no doubt about that, he wasn't the best looking person around. Hell, he wasn't even the best looking person on the Russian team! Enrique slowed down, correcting himself. Bryan was on the same team as Kai and Tala. No-one stood a chance of being the best on a team with those two there, it would be like claiming to be the best chef on a team with Oliver and Rei!

The sound of footsteps behind him pulls Enrique from his thoughts, which were slowly meandering off into weird directions. He turned, expecting to see Robert or Johnny, and was shocked to see Bryan behind him. Bryan began to fidget, something that Enrique was sure the blader was not supposed to do.

Bryan opened his mouth to speak, and shut it quickly. It wouldn't matter. Enrique would never listen to him. He wasn't perfect like Oliver. He opened his mouth again and a flood of emotion poured out. "I really like you and I think I want to go out with you some time but I'll completely understand if you think I'm a freak or something and don't ever want to even be in the same room with me because a lot of people tend to be like that."

Enrique stared at Bryan. Bryan stared back. Enrique stepped closer to Bryan, thinking of what he was supposed to say. Bryan completely ignored Enrique's contemplative look and leaned in to kiss the blonde. Enrique melted into Bryan's arms, his mind completely erasing all arguments against dating the Russian.

After all, life wasn't fun without a little danger.

* * *

**Wow. That went in a completely different direction than what it was supposed to be... Can I claim first Enri/Bryan?! And 3000 word! My fingers are all achy!!! **

**Anyway, the song is Parlez-Vous Francais, by Art vs Science. I'd also like to point out the other couple of songs that helped me get through this fic, but I can't remember what they are, except for the Rob Thomas song 'Her Diamonds' which was playing when Oliver was crying.**

**And to my loyal followers (lol), thank you so much! (In no particular order) Azab, nightangel09, MAXonthemoon, Elemental Gypsy (zomg! Thank you!!!!!), XXFlamingPhoenixXX. Many hugs, kisses and cookies to all of you:)**

**So, same deal as usual. If you liked it, review! If you didn't, wait a few days and then tell me why! Maybe I can fix what you didn't like, but Bryan's lack of grammar in his "I like you" won't change. Have you ever seen anyone use correct grammar when they're pouring out their heart and soul? Yeah, me neither!**

**Xoxox,**

**Qiuyue**


End file.
